


King Steve

by pretty_pendragon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, At least I do, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Bisexual Billy Hargrove, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blow Jobs, Childhood Trauma, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Harringrove, Hurt Steve Harrington, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Third Person Limited, Past Child Abuse, Post-Stranger Things 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Stranger Things 3, Psychological Trauma, Public Blow Jobs, Public Masturbation, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Stranger Things 2, We pretend like that season didn't happen lol, Whump, dubcon, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretty_pendragon/pseuds/pretty_pendragon
Summary: Steve turned around to face Billy. In the afternoon light, his eyes were lit up an icy blue, and his face was colored light and dark purple in the places Steve’s fist had made contact a few nights ago. He didn’t look anywhere near as bad as Steve did, hardly any swelling.“What do you want, Hargrove?” Steve asked lowly.Billy cracked a sideways smile and chuckled to himself. He put his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and took a step forward, leaning menacingly into Steve’s space.“I want you to watch your back,” he threatened quietly, his breath steaming in the biting afternoon air.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 21
Kudos: 76





	1. The Note

**Author's Note:**

> Uh-oh Steve-o, why did you rattle the cage??? 
> 
> This is my first ever Harringrove fic so please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

Steve limped to class in the frigid winter morning after his mother dropped him off at school. Of course his concussion meant he couldn’t drive, but school was still fair game. _Totally ridiculous_ , Steve muttered to himself as struggled to get the door open with his one good foot, the other propped up with his crutch. His fight with Billy two nights ago at the Byers house really left him messed up.

Oh God. Steve groaned at the thought of seeing that giant jughead strut through the halls, probably going out of his way to trip Steve up so he could fuck with him more. _I’ll just have to avoid the asshole_ , Steve thought.

“Nice face, Harrington,” came a gruff voice from down the hall.

So much for that.

But Steve rolled his eyes and kept walking to his locker. Once he got to it, he glanced over his shoulder to see if Billy was still lurking in the hallway. Thankfully, Billy was gone, so Steve stuffed his jacket in his locker and began the painful trek to his first period class at the other end of the school building.

A couple of head-splitting hours later, Steve went to his locker to swap out his books for the afternoon. He didn’t even know what work he needed to have done or what he was supposed to be prepared for with all the chaos that had ensued over the last couple of days. It made his head hurt even worse to try to process it, so Steve popped a few painkillers and was about to leave for lunch with what books he figured he needed when he saw a yellow post-it that had been shoved through the crack in his locker.

_Watch your back, King Steve_.

Steve’s stomach dropped and his breath got caught in his throat. “Shit,” he whispered to himself, groaning inwardly.

Crumpling the post it, Steve threw it on the ground and slammed his locker in frustration. Who was out to get him now? Billy? Tommy? The last thing Steve needed was another fight. Groaning again, Steve was off to the cafeteria for some crappy pizza, before struggling upstairs for the remainder of his classes.

\-----

The next morning, Steve felt marginally better, making his way once again to his locker before first period. He tried to figure out which books he needed, hung up his jacket, and then swung his locker shut. Before walking away, Steve heard a soft thud at his feet and looked down.

Another post-it.

Steve hurriedly grabbed it and unraveled it. It couldn’t have been the same one from yesterday… could it?

_Watch your back, King Steve,_ it read, just like yesterday’s post it. It was the same one.

Whirling around, Steve looked frantically up and down the hallway for some explanation of how the piece of trash ended up back in his locker. He was starting to get a little freaked out, so this time, Steve decided to throw it away.

Shaking his head, Steve winced. Damn, his head hurt. He really wished he hadn’t gotten pummeled by dumbass Billy.

When the bell rang, and Steve headed off to class, scowling in discomfort.

\-----

That afternoon, after failing a Pre-Calculus test, Steve stood sulking outside, waiting for his mother. Things were looking pretty bleak when he thought about it—his grades, his face, his leg, his failed relationship with Nancy, his future... And who knows how long he'd be out for the basketball season. Steve’s eyes watered. _Damn it_ , he thought. _Don’t be a sissy_. He’d work it out, things would get better. They would.

“Hey Harrington,” the same husky voice from yesterday called.

Steve sniffed and quickly wiped his eyes of any tears. _Leave it to this asshole to show up at the perfect moment_ , he thought.

“What do you want,” Steve replied sharply, not looking Billy’s way.

“Now, now, now,” Billy chided hoarsely, “That’s not very nice.”

“Look, screw you man. Just leave me alone,” Steve warned. He really didn’t want any trouble from Billy, and trouble is what Billy loved.

“Hey, I’m just saying hello. Can’t I say hello? Or is King Steve too high and mighty to talk to a commoner like me?” Billy jived. 

_King Steve_.

Steve turned around to face Billy. In the afternoon light, his eyes were lit up an icy blue, and his face was colored light and dark purple in the places Steve’s fist had made contact a few nights ago. He didn’t look anywhere near as bad as Steve did, he had hardly any swelling.

“What do you want, Hargrove?” Steve asked lowly.

Billy cracked a sideways smile and chuckled to himself. He put his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and took a step forward, leaning menacingly into Steve’s space.

“I want you to watch your back,” he threatened quietly, his breath steaming in the biting afternoon air. Steve said nothing, his mind reeling. _Watch your back. King Steve._

Then, before Steve could say anything, Billy walked past him, lighting up a cigarette and throwing his head back in that irritating way he does.

Finding his voice, Steve shouted back, “Leave the love notes for Valentine’s, Hargrove.”

Billy paused his strut mid-step, and turned on his heel. “What…did you say to me?” Billy bit out. Steve could see Billy’s eyes glinting predatorily from the road as his mom pulled up. Walking toward the car, Steve called out again with a shrug, “I said leave the love notes for Valentine’s, Hargrove,” before shutting the door.

Steve’s mother smiled and asked about his day, but Steve could only watch Billy from the rearview mirror. Billy stood in the middle of the road, seething with anger as Steve and his mother drove away.

“Fine,” Steve replied absentmindedly.

What a lie that was.


	2. Damn It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Damn it_ , was all Steve could think. He really didn’t need another fight with Billy, not in this condition.
> 
> The bell rang, and Steve stood at this locker as everyone rushed by.
> 
>  _Damn it_.

Steve didn’t see Billy the next day, but thought nothing of it as Billy was known to skip often. By the time weekend came Steve was ready for a break from the torture known as school. But Steve’s weekend eventually passed in boring, Advil-popping, brain addling monotony. He tried to catch up on his schoolwork, he really did, but anytime Steve concentrated for more than an hour, his head got dizzy and he needed to lie down with the lights off.

When night finally rolled around, though he was glad the weekend was over, Steve was dreading school. His teachers took no sympathy on him with in class questions that made his temples throb and cheeks burn in embarrassment because he had to admit, time and time again, he did not know the answer. Steve also had to admit...he missed Nancy. Not only because she was the first girl he seriously let himself fall for, but because she was so damn smart and always helped Steve with homework. If only he knew someone who could tutor him, maybe he wouldn’t be screwed with his overdue work and could stop mortifying himself in just about every class.

On Monday morning, Steve woke with the same dull pain in his head he always woke to. He pulled on a striped purple and green sweater, threw on his faded Levi’s and laced his black chuck’s. After working his overpriced hair products through his hair and shaping it with a comb, Steve was ready for the week.

\-----

Rubbing his hands together to chase away the cold that nearly froze them, Steve approached his locker and noticed someone had taken a sharpie to it. His eyes growing wide, Steve stood in front of his locker with his mouth hanging open. Someone had taken a permanent marker and drawn a crown on Steve’s locker. Biting his lip in irritation, Steve swung open his locker and hoped no one had noticed and that no one would walk by.

“Hey-o, _King Steve_ ,” Tommy jeered.

“Yeah, what’s up _your majesty_ ,” Carol added in a dramatic, shitty attempt at a British accent.

Steve rolled his eyes. Of course it would be those two. “What’s up,” he said curtly as he got what he needed for his classes.

“Oh somebody’s _mad_ ,” Carol whined patronizingly, “What’s ‘a matter, _your highness_?” she added, cackling in amusement at her own joke.

“Just going to class,” Steve responded tersely, “Something you two want?” he asked with an attitude.

Tommy scoffed. “Dude, we just came to warn you that Billy is gonna beat you to a pulp,” he informed matter-of-factly.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Carol sneered, “Your dog meat, Stevey.”

Steve’s heart beat a little harder as he panicked a little. “What would he want with me?” he asked, trying to seem bored with the conversation.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tommy chirped innocently, “Why don’t you ask him and find out.”

Carol screeched in amusement at Steve’s disconcerted face, and she and Tommy walked away.

 _Damn it_ , was all Steve could think. He really didn’t need another fight with Billy, not in this condition.

The bell rang, and Steve stood at this locker as everyone rushed by.

 _Damn it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such a short chapter, I know, but I am too impatient to make it any longer! Sorryyy. Anyway, I wonder what Billy wants with Steve? ;) Any guesses? Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!


	3. Don't You Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Harrington… Harrington…. Harrington…” Billy announced loudly, taking a step forward each time he said Steve’s name.
> 
> He stopped when he came within two feet of Steve, staring at him with that same predatory look in his icy blue eyes. Steve noticed Billy’s bruising hadn’t healed up any since last week, which was odd. But then Steve’s attention was drawn away when Billy cracked his signature sideways smile, showing his sharp, white teeth. Steve stood ready to throw a punch. What the hell was he waiting for?

It was 3:01pm and Steve stood anxiously by the door of the school, not wanting to walk too far near the road and risk seeing Billy again like he had the other day. Steve tapped his foot in anticipation for his mom to arrive. But by 3:25pm, she still had not pulled up, and Steve decided to go inside where it was warm.

He stood a few feet inside the doorway as stragglers grabbed the last of their things and drove home or got picked up. Suddenly, over the loudspeaker, Steve heard an announcement: _Steve Harrington, your ride will be here at 4:15pm_.

Groaning in frustration, Steve went over to his locker to kill time. Maybe he could reorganize it? What else was there to do anyway?

After a while of messing with the way his books were standing, he heard that same menacing, hoarse voice as last week, “Hey Harrington.”

Steve froze.

“What do you want?” he tried to ask confidently as he went to shut his locker, but Billy threw his hand on the locker door to keep it from shutting.

Steve tried to turn around to confront Billy, but he was pushing Steve against the lockers. “I thought I told you to watch your back,” Billy whispered dangerously.

As his head was being stuffed in his own locker, Steve felt the onset of a mind-numbing migraine.

“Cut it out, Hargrove!” he shouted, wincing in pain.

In response, Billy slammed his knee into the back of Steve’s on his bad leg, the one he’d managed to twist last week. He was finally off his crutch, but after today he might need it again. _Fucking asshole_ , Steve thought.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Billy jibed in amusement, forcing his knee against Steve’s leg all the more.

“Ouch!” Steve couldn’t help but say as the pain in his head and leg got worse. He needed to think of how to get damn Hargrove off him.

Then Steve remembered he had elbows. Pulling his arm forward, he slammed it back, hitting Billy in the chest, forcing him back a few feet. The locker door slammed back and forth as Steve stumbled away from it, facing Billy, who was laughing that crazed laugh he did the night of their fight at the Byers house.

“Look at this, King Steve the _hero_ ,” Billy sneered.

“What. Do you. Want,” Steve ordered, fists balled.

Billy licked his lips and barred his teeth, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“Harrington… Harrington…. Harrington…” Billy announced loudly, taking a step forward each time he said Steve’s name.

He stopped when he came within two feet of Steve, staring at him with that same predatory look in his icy blue eyes. Steve noticed Billy’s bruising hadn’t healed up any since last week, which was odd. But then Steve’s attention was drawn away when Billy cracked his signature sideways smile, showing his sharp, white teeth. Steve stood ready to throw a punch. What the hell was he waiting for?

“Don’t you know?” Billy inquired, feigning impatience.

_Know what?_ Steve wondered, but before he could say anything, Billy surged forward. Throwing an upward sucker punch, Steve prayed it would make contact before Billy could do any serious damage, but Billy’s hand caught Steve’s fist mid swing.

Slamming Steve into the locker, Steve felt soft, warm lips against him.

_What the fuck—_

Steve broke away, and tried to push Billy off him. “What the fuck, man!” he shouted in disbelief, and a touch of panic, “What the fuck was that—” but he was silenced with a sweaty hand over his mouth.

Billy leaned into Steve’s ear, his breath coming heavy. “I want you, Harrington... and I’m gonna wreck you.”

Steve’s head was spinning, and not just from being pushed around. _Was Hargrove queer?_ Steve had a hard time believing that with all the airhead girls he bragged about banging. And besides, Steve wasn’t queer—why would Hargrove think that? This has to be some joke devised by those idiots Tommy and Carol.

Mustering his strength, he threw both of his hands against Billy’s chest, and Billy staggered back a few feet.

“What the hell do you think this is?” Steve growled, “If this is some sick joke, I don’t want any part of it, Hargrove. I don’t work like that.”

Billy cocked his head, looking at Steve with interest. He paused for a moment, as if he were thinking. But before he could speak, Steve added, “I mean it, dude, you can miss me with that shit.”

Steve stooped down to grab his backpack since it didn’t seem like Billy was moving, but a hand caught his wrist and slammed him back against the lockers. Steve groaned in discomfort.

“Listen, Harrington,” Billy threatened, “You better watch your mouth. It could get you in a lot of trouble.” Steve struggled against Billy’s grip. _What the hell is wrong with this guy?_

Then, a voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing, _Steve Harrington, please meet your ride outside_ , and Billy was off Steve in an instant, turning a corner and disappearing as quickly as he’d appeared.

\-----

That night, Steve had the worst dreams, which he guessed were really just nightmares…Nightmares of Billy cornering him in the hall, an alley, or pushing him into the janitor’s closet, and kissing him like he did earlier that day. The nightmares cycled throughout the night, leaving Steve pretty restless and sleep deprived. In his dreams, he didn’t know if he was afraid or confused, and when he woke, he found he still didn’t understand how he felt about what happened yesterday.

_What the hell_ was _that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, what have we here? What is up with Billy? I'm sorry again for it being so short. Idk, it's just how my brain is pacing the store :|
> 
> Let me know what you think, and thank you so much for reading!


	4. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve let out a small sigh and silently thanked God that he wouldn’t be terrorized today. But Christ, what about tomorrow? Steve wanted to ram his head into his locker, maybe he could give himself a bad enough migraine to be out tomorrow. No, no, he couldn’t look like a wuss—in fact, he refused to. Slamming his locker shut, Steve growled in anger. _Fuck this guy_. He was causing nothing but trouble, and it had to end.

If Steve dreaded going to school before, this morning, it was an understatement. He was wondering if he should fake the flu to stay home, but his mother’s day off was today, so he wouldn’t be alone anyway. So Steve figured he’d go to school and see what type of hell today would bring.

Much to his surprise, the day passed by without any notes, vandalism, or appearances from Billy, and thankfully Steve’s mother picked him up shortly after school ended. Steve was also lucky that the janitor had scrubbed away the permanent marker on his locker so he didn’t have to be reminded of how weird the day before had been, though his brain kept reminding him anyway.

When it came time to sleep, Steve crossed his fingers that he wouldn’t have those awful dreams about Hargrove kissing him, one night of nightmares was more than enough.

\-----

Steve couldn’t sleep. He rolled around to see what time it was. 1:01am. Damn, he had to be up in 5 hours. He wondered if he rubbed one out, whether he’d be able to fall asleep. _Might as well try_ , he figured as he palmed his dick through his boxers, coaxing it to get hard. Steve sighed at the sensation, and tugged his boxers down once he was solid. He began running his hand down his shaft lightly, massaging his head with the palm of his hand. Then Steve gripped his cock harder, and started stroking, letting his mind wander.

His imagination conjured a wide hipped girl with a small chest and curly brown hair. In his fantasy, he suckled at her small breasts, feeling her nipples harden under his tongue. “Oh Steve,” he imagined she’d moan. “Oh, Steve…” she would moan louder when he’d line his cock up with her wet, hairy pussy. Steve liked his girls natural, after all. He pumped his cock faster in his hand as he imagined fucking in his fantasy—his skin slapping hers, her wanton moans of pleasure as he gripped her hips. He imagined she’d clench around him as she came on his cock, and a high pitched whining would play in his ears. She’d look at him from under her dark lashes as her electric blue eyes would beg him to cum. “Oh Steve,” she’d murmur sexily, “Harrington,” she’d whisper. Steve jerked himself faster at the imaginary encouragement. “Oh, Steve,” she’d keep moaning, her bright eyes sparkling. Damn he was close. She’d bite her lip, then blow him, her wintry eyes eager for his cum. Those eyes…where had he seen them before? Her tongue would maneuver around his swollen cock and she’d look at him with those eyes—he knew them from somewhere—and she’d bob her head and massage his balls and she’d choke on his cock and—and with a jerk of his hips and a soft groan, he’d cum like he was now.

Steve grabbed a few tissues from his night table to clean up with, and then settled into bed, sleeping the rest of the night soundly.

\-----

The next morning, Steve was terribly groggy, and his head hurt more than usual. Dragging himself out the door, he knew he looked like shit because he’d overslept. That meant he’d had less time to style his hair than he’d like. Steve sighed as he grabbed a granola bar for breakfast, not having enough time for anything else. He just needed to get through the day.

When he walked briskly into school to switch out his books at his locker, he nearly side in relief at the prospect of another day with no notes or drawings from Billy. That was until the final bell rang, and Steve made his last stop as his locker for the day.

As he put away his books and grabbed what he needed for homework, a yellow post it fell to the floor. Time slowed as Steve stared at it on the floor. Did he even want to pick it up?

He bent down to pick it up, and unfolded it. This one read: _Tomorrow, 3:25, back parking lot._ Steve let out a small sigh and silently thanked God that he wouldn’t be terrorized today. But Christ, what about tomorrow? Steve wanted to ram his head into his locker, maybe he could give himself a bad enough migraine to be out tomorrow. No, no, he couldn’t look like a wuss—in fact, he refused to. Slamming his locker shut, Steve growled in anger. _Fuck this guy_. He was causing nothing but trouble, and it had to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, what do we think will happen between Billy and Steve this time? Thank you for reading!!


	5. The "Fight"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, well, well,” came Billy’s amused voice, “If it isn’t Steve Harrington.”
> 
> Steve rolled his eyes. Billy’s greetings were really getting old. 
> 
> “Alright Billy,” Steve called, annoyed, “Come on and let’s get this over with.”
> 
> Billy raised an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing.
> 
> “Well? Are you scared or something? Let’s go Hargrove,” Steve jabbed. 
> 
> Billy, ever confusing and menacing, just looked at Steve with half raised eyebrows, smirking as he lit up a fresh cigarette and took a few puffs.

Each minute that ticked away during Steve’s mind-numbing classes felt like years. For every class that ended, he dreaded the next with gut-wrenching aversion. In his second to last class, Steve was positive he was going to die of boredom, or anxiety. Or both. What a shitty mix.

Finally, when school ended at 2:45pm, Steve took his time packing up his things before he headed down to his locker. He had a fight with Billy planned for 3:25 and boy, could he not wait for it to be over. Steve groaned at the thought of how fucked up he would be within the hour.

Killing time at his locker, he switched around his books and even did a little math homework, before his head started pounding and he had to put it away. Looking at his watch, it read 3:15pm. So, Steve packed up his backpack and shoved it into his locker and made his way toward the back parking lot. 

Steve had told his mom that he would find a ride home, though now that the hallways and grounds were only occupied by stragglers and band geeks, he wasn’t so sure. God, what would his mom say when he comes home with another bruised and bloody face within two weeks of the other one? He didn’t want to imagine, because how would he explain that? _“Uh, the same guy beat me up because he’s psycho.”_ Sounds fool-proof. His mom definitely wouldn’t call the school and ask about Billy. Whatever, Steve couldn’t think about that right now. He needed to focus on not getting the shit beat out of him by Billy.

Exiting the warm school and stepping into the biting cold, Steve exhaled sharply. Fuck, it was cold. Stuffing his hands up in his armpits as he walked, he walked out one of the back doors of the school, past the courtyard, and down the sidewalk that led to the farthest most parking lot.

There were about four or five cars total in the parking lot as Steve looked around to see who would be turning up for this big fight, expecting to see Tommy and Carol snickering and laughing their stupid laughs. But Steve saw no one, not even Billy. Checking his watch, it read 3:22pm. Sighing, Steve stuck his hands into his coat pockets to stay warm, and kicked some rocks across the asphalt. After a couple minutes, in the slow-growing twilight, he saw two headlights come into view.

Billy’s 1979 Chevy Camaro rumbled into the parking lot, stopping shy of Steve, who took a deep breath and braced for the unpleasant encounter he was about to have.

“Well, well, well,” came Billy’s amused voice, “If it isn’t Steve Harrington.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Billy’s greetings were really getting old.

“Alright Billy,” Steve called, annoyed, “Come on and let’s get this over with.”

Billy raised an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing.

Steve waited, his heart beating faster the longer Billy went without exiting his car, which plumed smoke out its back in the cold afternoon.

“Well? Are you scared or something? Let’s go Hargrove,” Steve jabbed.

Billy, ever confusing and menacing, just looked at Steve with half raised eyebrows, smirking as he lit up a fresh cigarette and took a few puffs.

“Get in the car, Harrington,” he said like it was the obvious thing to do.

“What?” Steve asked, incredulous.

“I know you’re not the brightest, Harrington, but I know you understand what I said. Now get in the car.”

Steve stood still. What did Billy want? And why would he want Steve to come with him. Mulling it over, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

“I don’t think so dude. If you wanna kiss, why don’t you go ask one of those loose-legged girls that follow you around?” Steve said boldly, hoping to get Hargrove out of his car.

Billy snickered. “Just get in the car, Harrington, I won’t bite.”

Steve wasn’t sure what to do. Get in the car with Billy, and who knows where they’d go—he would probably still beat Steve up. Or, don’t get in the car with Billy, and be terrorized every day at school…maybe this was Steve’s chance to put an end to this.

Billy was fiddling with the radio, and turned up the music. His speakers blared Sammy Hagar’s newest hit, and Steve just decided to go with it. Opening the door, he threw himself into the smoke-filled car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short! I'm impatient and am kind of just writing this as ideas come (bad, I know!)
> 
> "Can't Drive 55" by Sammy Hagar was #27 on the US Top 40 List for the week of November 12th, 1984 (according to top40weekly.com).  
> Here is the music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RvV3nn_de2k


End file.
